Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Freedom Mansion
Robyn
D’Angelo leans over Shay on the bed. His tie runs across Shay’s powerful naked chest like a snake. He firmly grasps Shay’s right wrist in his and pulls it above Shay’s head. “Does this hurt, cucciolo?”
Shay is unusually subdued. “I told you. I’m fine.”
That would be more convincing if he wasn’t covered in purple bruises over his swollen left shoulder and hip.
The colors are stark against his ice-white skin.
The Bay Rebels lost the game last night.
What had made me almost smash through the glass like a tiny, red haired Incredible Hulk had been the fear that Shay had also lost his hockey career in the same way that his brother had.
Adrenaline spiked through me. My heart hammered in my chest.
When some asshole threw the butt plug onto the ice (and wouldn’t that be a career ending accident that would be remembered for all the wrong reasons?), and Shay crashed into the boards, Eden jolted like he’d been shot.
Luckily, Shay was able to hold onto enough control to protect his head. Yet his shoulder and hip could have been seriously injured since they took the brunt of the hit.
I can smell the delicious scent of bacon sizzling downstairs, mixing with freshly brewed coffee.
I am relieved that Eden is keeping himself busy making breakfast.
I can always rely on Eden’s desire to feed us to take his mind off problems.
Also, bacon sandwiches are a plus in any circumstance.
Happy stomach, happy mind.
I lie next to Shay on the four-poster bed in our bedroom. I push the rumpled silver sheets off myself, twisting the hem of Eden’s KIT-TEA t-shirt between my fingers. Eden’s t-shirt is my favorite thing to sleep in. I take a deep breath of Eden’s sweet vanilla scent to calm myself.
Pale morning light streams over the bedroom from the arched windows and skylights.
D’Angelo’s eyes darken, as his gaze slides from Shay’s right wrist to the bruises down the left-hand side of his body.
D’Angelo is dressed in a pinstriped suit and waistcoat. His expression is cool and assessing.
Shay squirms. “Both Code and Mike checked me over last night. It’s only bruises.”
“Only?” I splutter. “You look like you’ve been dipped in ink. Talking of ink, why have you been writing on your…?”
Shay snaps his legs together, hiding the smudged ink that I’d caught sight of on his inner thigh.
Shay’s cheeks flush. “Haven’t you ever written notes on yourself?”
“Usually,” D’Angelo drawls, “people write on the back of their hand. I once cheated on an exam that way. Aren’t I a bad boy? What I didn’t do is write the answers on my inner thigh and shove my pants down in the middle of the exam to peer at them.”
“Surprisingly,” I mutter, “since you waltzed around college naked half the time.”
Shay’s lips quirk. “That’s why between us, I’m the rebel.”
“I’m putting more arnica on you.” I scramble to the nightstand, before snatching up the tube of arnica cream for bruises and waving it at him like a threat.
Shay groans, wrinkling up his nose. “You’ve already smothered me in enough to make me smell like a menthol factory has exploded all over me.”
“Too bad.” I scoot closer to him. “You’ll have to live with some fussing.”
Shay looks like he’s about to bolt.
Before he can, D’Angelo clicks the metal hand cuff that is lined with leather, which is hanging from the oak headboard, around Shay’s wrist with a click.
Then he looks smug.
Shay gapes at him. “Unfair, darlin’. I’m not trying to escape.”
“Looked like you were thinking about it,” I point out.
“Fair, love, but even if I ran, you’d chase and catch me. Then we’d all have a good time.”
D’Angelo traces over the cold metal cuff. “This is for me. I need to know that you’re here with me and safe.”
Shay’s expression softens.
“And this,” I squirt more arnica cream onto Shay’s hip and slowly work it into his skin in circular motions, “is for me. Let us take care of you.”
Shay relaxes for the first time since he was medically checked out after the game by my brother, before being called into Dad’s office to be yelled at for his poor performance.
D’Angelo was furious that Dad kept him kicking his heels outside in the corridor, refusing to allow him inside with Shay.
Yet I grudgingly understand Dad’s point.
D’Angelo was incredible last night. He scored and pulled together an amazing performance from the rest of his team.
It was Shay who messed up.
Shay who didn’t score.
He felt off from the moment that he skated onto the ice.
Unfocused.
Lost.
I know how much is riding on these games.
It’s why the rest of the team put everything that they had into the game, and I am grateful to them.
I don’t know what happened with Shay. He’s been tight-lipped about it.
I won’t push him. He’ll talk when he’s ready.
Shay smirks. “When have I ever said no to kinky bondage with some massage? Take care of me all you like.”
He glances down at his cock, which is standing hopefully at attention.
I laugh. “Sadly, you’ll have to take care of that yourself. I’m here in a purely medical role.”
Shay’s gaze becomes half-hooded. “You’re a sexy nurse. And here I am tied, innocent, and defenseless. I do hope that you don’t take advantage of my hot, muscled body…”
He eagerly sprawls out as much as he can to artfully display himself further with a wink.
He does look delicious like a model shoot of a captive prince.
His skin glistens with the cream, as if he’s been slathered in oil.
D’Angelo snorts, sitting back on the side of the bed. “Innocent...?”
Shay attempts to look offended. “I’m not the one handcuffing my boyfriend to the bed before he’s even had breakfast.”
He says boyfriend like he’s testing it out.
D’Angelo’s eyes glitter. “When did I ever suggest that I was innocent?”
When my phone vibrates on the nightstand, my stomach sinks.
D’Angelo catches my expression and gives me an understanding look. “Do you need to get that?”
I shake my head. “I set it up for notifications about yesterday’s…” I glance at Shay, “Sex Toys on Ice incident. I’d hoped for one week without PR disasters, but hey, then I’d be bored.”
“I’m sorry,” Shay says, quietly.
“Don’t apologize for the idiots who’ll throw something onto a rink for a prank or a viral moment.” I cross my arms. “It’s happened in Atlanta and Chicago. The papers are calling it the Butt Plug Bets.”
“What do you mean?”
I run my hand through my tangled hair tiredly.
“Eden and I researched it through most of the night. Hell, for once we were the ones who couldn’t sleep.
It turns out that crypto markets are encouraging people to bet on the throwing of sex toys at all sorts of sports events, even down to what color they’ll be.
People are winning and losing thousands. ”
“Someone bet money on whether they could hit the rink with a bloody butt plug?” Shay blows his hair out of his eyes. “Do you think someone’s just really confused about how to play the type of kinky bets that we do?”
“We play it right. They play it like assholes.”
“And have the security or the cops caught the asshole who threw the butt plug onto the rink yet?” D’Angelo growls. “Because when they do, I’ll return it to them and show them its proper use.”
I wince. “As your PR Director, I have to advise against that officially. Unofficially, go for it.”
Eden must be rubbing off on me.
Hello, darkness my old friend.
D’Angelo adjusts his cufflinks. “I’ll have Garcia look into it.
He’s already digging into the activities and backgrounds of the Misfits, both Tanya Vega and KillaStar, the newbie.
Vega threw a spiral unicorn dildo at me in the game against the Chicago Blackhawkes. Maybe she’s evolved to butt plugs.”
I arch my brow, ignoring the whole chain of thought that is derailing me that butt plugs are an evolution of dildos. “But her season ticket was revoked for that stunt. Security won’t let her step inside the arena.”
“But whoever this KillaStar could.”
I shiver, chilled.
I grab the velvet blankets from the end of the bed and drag them over myself.
I can’t help remembering the mountain of Valentine’s cards and then the crumbling wreathes made out of dead roses.
My Knave,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I love you to death,
And I’m coming for you…
“Do you think that they targeted me?” Shay looks at me through his thick eyelashes. “A butt plug because something has leaked about me being bi.”
My breath catches at the same time that D’Angelo stills.
“I don’t know.” My throat is tight. Shit, I wish that I had a better answer. But I can’t lie. My pulse is pounding. “Until we find out who threw it, I don’t want to say one way or the other because it would be a guess. Was it a stunt? A prank? A bet? Something targeted to threaten you…?”
D’Angelo’s jaw clenches. “This stops. Now.”
“But how?” Shay demands.
“I’m finding a way, cucciolo.” D’Angelo prowls to his feet.
“Your sexuality and our relationship are not something to be mocked. They’re also not something that we should be ashamed about.
I fucking hate that it’s become the weak spot that people can exploit to control or blackmail us.
As long as we keep the relationship between all four of us a secret, the more vulnerable we are. ”
My heart races.
I stare at D’Angelo, who is standing by the side of the bed, studying Shay and me like we’re the answers to a question he asked a decade ago.
Since he fell in love with me in college, I guess that I am.
“What are you saying?” Shay asks.